From Sea To Sky
by axl.leb858
Summary: Nikos was raised from the age of six by a sea monster. Now he's a Rider, and trying desperately to adjust to a world of vegetables, flight, and this mysterious thing called "reading," all while the Order is being menaced by a threat only he can see... Rated M for violence. Violence will be warned about before it starts.
1. Chapter 1: Death and Bonding

One: Death and Bonding

**A/N: -/- means that a violent part is starting or ending. skip to the second symbol if you don't like reading violence.**

Seven hundred-sixty-six years after the end of the Varden War (766 AVW):

Nikos swam through the ocean, giggling hysterically as he chased the fish. His stomach was full; the point of the game was to grab the fish and release it before his mother touched him. That was difficult; his mother was a Hunter of the Deep, and could outswim him easily. However, he could turn faster. He used that to his advantage, and caught the fish, lifting it out of the water before releasing it as Long-Fangs stopped beside him.

[A good catch, my dear one,] the female congratulated her adopted offspring. She nuzzled him affectionately, and he patted her snout. [You win.]

[Thank you, Mother,] the human teen said. Then his eyes widened. [DIVE!]

Long-Fangs twisted her neck to look behind her, and the whalers' harpoon struck her between the eyes. Obviously enchanted, it seemed to glow, and Long-Fangs twitched once, before being forever still.

A series of images flashed through Nikos' mind…

Being thrown overboard by his own father, the captain of a ship, because he had broken his arm and could not work…

Washing up on a deserted island, more dead than alive…

Being rescued by his mother, who taught him how to live and love and hunt and be hunted in the deep ocean…

The first time he had dived to the bottom—not the _real_ bottom, of course, but an accessible reef—and seen the wonders of the seas…

The time he and his mother had come upon a group of shipwreck survivors and eaten them—the infant had been _very_ tasty, in Nikos' opinion, even though its mother had scarred his face badly…

That special night when an elder of the Hunters had proclaimed him a member of their people at a once-a-century gathering…

Nikos shrieked as one of the whalers leapt into the water and swam to him. The teen struggled and fought, even biting the man's hand until his teeth met, but the whaler refused to let go, and wrestled Nikos into the boat.

"Relax, son. You're safe now."

"Who…threw…that?" Nikos asked. His voice was raspy from years of silence. The Hunters of the Deep spoke with their thoughts, and Nikos had learned how.

-/-

"I did," a man said. Nikos threw himself at the harpooner. Before the crew could restrain him, his teeth found the man's throat and ripped. The man's throat came away in a spray of blood that painted Nikos crimson and a gurgling, hissing scream. The soon-to-be corpse fell to the deck of the boat and shrieked and thrashed as it bled to death.

Nikos bared his teeth in a feral, frightening smile. The whalers backed away from him, terrified.

-/-

Two frightening weeks later, during which Nikos terrorized the crew, the whalers shoved him ashore on Bierland.

Nikos was stranded. No money, one set of clothes, and no concept of human culture. He could barely speak because had had been abandoned and adopted at the age of six. He quickly discovered that speaking through thoughts was a bad idea; it terrified people.

Not that Nikos _cared_, of course. But it was hard to communicate with people when they ran away screaming about demons. Eventually, he learned basic words like "food", "water," "outhouse," and some simple sentences, mostly ones like "I am Nikos. Who are you?" However, Nikos remained unable to speak in complex sentences or convey complicated ideas without struggling. Reading and writing were complete mysteries to him.

Ten months after his "rescue", Nikos was working at an inn as a floor-sweeper and messenger when a stranger walked in and flashed a silver mark on her palm at the innkeeper. The stranger was less than four feet tall, had long, braided hair that fell almost to the floor, and carried a sword in a brown scabbard with a brown gem in the pommel.

The innkeeper paled. "My Lady, what is your pleasure this day?"

"A glass of mead, a _good_ steak—T-bone, cooked medium-well, and don't _dare_ try selling me cheap meat—and some sauced mushrooms."

"We don't have any mead…" the innkeeper started.

"Yes, we—yes! You lie!" Nikos shouted from beside the man.

The innkeeper turned an interesting shade of purple. The stranger just looked him in the eye as best she could and scowled. "Is this true?" she demanded. Her voice had gone cold.

"No! I keep the mead for important visitors!"

"Like those wealthy merchants buying black-market goods in the back room?" the stranger asked.

-/-

The innkeeper moved to strike her. Fast as a snake, Nikos rammed a fist into the man's midriff, leaving him doubled over and gasping. Nikos grabbed the back of the man's skull and yanked upward and sideways. A deafening _crack_ was heard as the man's neck snapped, and the corpse went still.

-/-

"Where did you learn to do _that?_" the stranger asked Nikos as she prodded the corpse with a boot.

"Mother." The boy wasn't even panting. There was a sickening satisfaction in his face.

"Your _mother?_"

Nikos grinned. "Nikos a Hunter of the Deep. You know of _Nïdwhalar?_ Killing easy, fun."

"But why did you kill him? I could have easily subdued him."

"Dragon egg tonight." Nikos pointed with a thumb to the back room.

The stranger drew her sword and stormed through the door to the back room. The door was barred, but the woman muttered something, and the wood shattered in a cloud of splinters. Nikos followed her in, grabbing his knife from his belt. He preferred unarmed combat, but there were times a weapon was useful. By the time he was inside, the room's occupants were pressed against the far wall, looking utterly horrified.

"The boy says there's a dragon egg here. _Where is it?_ The man who tells me isn't fed to my partner."

The woman flashed her marked palm again. There were groans of despair. Then one man spoke.

"It's in the chest." He pointed. Nikos walked over at the woman's nod and opened the chest. The egg inside was purple, a glossily shining thing of beauty.

"Wild or bonded?" the woman asked the man selling it.

"Wild so far. The parents were going to give it to you, but we killed them and took it."

The woman snarled and sliced the man's head off in a fountain of blood. "Good riddance to rubbish."

The other men hurried to surrender, but the woman took no prisoners. They died. Quickly and relatively cleanly, true, but they died just the same.

Then she turned to Nikos, who was still staring at the egg. "After I bind it for a Rider, would you like to touch it?"

"What?"

The woman briefly explained, ending with, "I'm giving you the chance to join our ranks. Will you accept?"

"Yes."

"Good." She took the egg from its chest and held it, whispering. Then she handed it to Nikos, saying, "It is done. Hold it, talk to it. Let it know who you are."

Nikos held and spoke to the egg, and it wobbled after only a few seconds. His eyes widened.

The woman—the Rider—smiled. "It will hatch soon. Set it down and wait."

Nikos placed the egg on a table, and it hatched almost immediately. A baby dragon with every scale coloured royal purple emerged and chirped at him. He touched it, and fainted.

When Nikos woke, his dragon was on the floor beside the pile of blankets Nikos used as a bed, thrashing and shrieking in pain. Nikos could feel his partner's agony, though it was bearable to him; ever since he had been stung by a jellyfish he'd been almost immune to pain. _This_, however, wasn't mere "pain". It felt as if Nikos was burning to death from the inside out and only sheer willpower kept him conscious as he scooped up his partner and sprinted to Freya's room. He forced the door open and ran in, only to stop at the sight of the dwarven Rider wearing nothing but a towel.

"Sorry," Nikos said. "Partner…I think dying!"

Freya cursed and walked over. "May I hold him?"

Nikos passed her the hatchling. It was still screaming.

Freya examined the hatchling, and then whispered in a language Nikos didn't understand. She paled.

"He has a very rare condition found only in dragons. It's called _burning scale disease_, and is a lifelong malady. It causes unbearable pain that lasts anywhere from a few minutes to several days."

"Not understand," Nikos said.

Freya explained again in simpler words. Nikos nodded. "So: no cure, little help. All life."

"Yes."

Nikos sighed as he held his partner. "Will be good, partner," he whispered to it. "All good."

Stælwierthe (the name was that of a god in Nïdwhal mythology who was the personification of courage) grew quickly, though every movement made him whimper in pain, and sometimes he could do nothing but lie in his bed and shiver while Nikos stroked his shaking limbs. Unable to hunt, he lived on small animals Nikos caught for him. "Stall" had a rich sense of humour, and delighted in playing jokes on his Rider, mostly involving Nikos' hatred of vegetables.

Soon after being marooned, the new Rider had discovered that land-dwellers ate plants. That disgusted him, but what was worse was the taste and texture. Vegetables and fruit had tastes that, to Nikos, were revolting. They were even worse than cooked meat—a barbaric custom that Nikos denied had any benefit. And in his opinion, foods were _not_ supposed to crunch when bit. So Stall _loved_ to slip lettuce or mushrooms or (especially) sweet onions into Nikos' food, just to get a reaction. He would giggle uncontrollably for minutes at a time while Nikos picked the bits out of his teeth and drank glasses of saltwater to wash away the taste.

Two months after Stall hatched, Freya called Nikos and his partner into her room.

"Yes, Teacher Freya?" Nikos asked. His speech had vastly improved thanks to daily lessons.

"It is time to leave for Du Fells Skulbaka. We would have left weeks ago, but I wanted to make sure Stall was strong enough to survive the journey."

"Survive, Teacher?"

"Yes. He is, as you know…sickly. The journey will take several weeks, and I wanted to make sure that he would be able to tolerate the change in his surroundings."

[I will manage,] Stall said. [I am not—] He stopped speaking and collapsed, twitching and thrashing as he howled in agony. [_MAKE IT STOP!_] Stall wailed.

Nikos screamed in shared pain; this was the worst attack yet, and he could barely remain standing. Stall crawled over to his Rider, dragging himself across the floor. Nikos, still shaking in pain, knelt and cuddled his partner against his chest. They stayed like that until the pain subsided. When it was over, Freya spoke again. "We leave at noon. Please go back to your room and pack your things."

Nikos carried Stall—who was quickly becoming too heavy to carry—back to his room and packed their small assortment of belongings. Freya was ready when they returned, and the four of them (Freya's partner Baldur had arrived a few days before after a separate mission was complete) left for the centre of the Hadarac Desert, where Eragon and the New Order had created an oasis in the mountains there.


	2. Chapter 2: Airsickness and Arrival

**A/N: disclaimeer for the whole story is here. I do not own the Inheritance Cycle. Also, I realize that this chapter is half the length of the first one, but I am stuck, and besides, my followers (thank you!) and reviewers (thanks for the support!) have waited long enough. It may be the end of August before the third chapter gets posted; I'm moving next week. However, I WILL NOT abandon this story.**

**A/N: humor ideas for Chapter Three are appreciated. PM me or review. Nothing adult!**

It was a _very_ slow journey. This was neither Nikos' nor Stall's faults, although both of them were violently airsick the entire time Baldur was in flight, which the elder dragon found hilarious. The main reason for the slow pace was that they had left just as summer storms were starting on the plains, and it proved necessary to fly _very_ cautiously to avoid becoming caught in one. Still, Freya, Baldur and their charges reached Bastion in well under two months.

Stall had three more attacks from his disease during the flight, which only added to the misery of the newest dragon and Rider. Screaming in pain was _not_ an enjoyable experience for either of them. Screaming while trying to vomit up a week's meals was hellish. **(A/N: Sorry for the grossness…only way I could make it work…)** Both Nikos and Stall were _extremely_ grateful when Baldur landed in Bastion's main landing field.

As they would later learn, Bastion, the city in the centre of the oasis, had five main fields of grass. One was for livestock; with so few wild animals around, it was necessary to keep cattle and some smaller animals, like pigs, for the dragons to eat. Two were for training: one for magic, the other for combat and mental duels. The final two were for arriving and departing dragons and Riders; one field was solely for landings, the other restricted to take-offs. The system had been put in place, Freya had said as Baldur waited his turn, after a mid-air collision that nearly killed everyone involved.

Nikos slowly climbed off of Baldur, feeling queasy. From the expressions of the gathering crowd, he looked it, too. _I _never _want to fly again_, he thought. Stall tried to glide down, but his disease triggered, and he fell with a shriek, and screamed even louder when he landed on his right foreleg. Nikos' eyes watered, and he rushed to Stall's side. What he saw shocked him. Stall's leg wasn't merely broken. _It was barely attached._ The elbow and shoulder joints were destroyed, and the leg was attached only by muscles and part of the skin. Stall was thrashing like a landed fish, which was compounding the damage. Nikos could feel the damage as if it had happened to him, and he nearly fainted. "Hold _still!_" Nikos shouted. "You're making it worse." Stall lay still, panting, his breathing ragged. It was obvious to Nikos that his partner's attack had not yet subsided, and the pain from his injury, combined with that, was quickly sending Stall into shock.

The healers rushed over and looked at the injury. An elf covered in bluish-black fur looked at Nikos and shook his head grimly. "We cannot save the leg without crippling him worse than amputation would," the elf said.

"Then take off!" Nikos gasped. He wasn't sure what _amputation_ meant, but he guessed that the elf referred to cutting off the injured leg, since it was beyond repair.

[Take it off…] Stall agreed.

The leg was amputated, and the stump—which was almost flush with Stall's torso—cleaned and sealed. It was done quickly, and Stall soon fell asleep, snoring softly as his attack ended. Nikos smiled and stroked his partner's cheek before rising. His legs were stiff from kneeling for so long.

It took five weeks for Stall to learn to walk again. He was _extremely_ proud of himself the day he limped across the floor of the hospital into Nikos' waiting arms. Nikos was proud, too.

While Stall had been learning to walk, Nikos had been struggling with the concept of reading. He would sit for hours, trying to wrap his head around the idea that marks on parchment could be anything but, well, scribbles, unless they were a complete picture. Because his and Stall's formal training had not yet started, he went daily to the small school set up for younger Riders, where he learned about etiquette, history, and polished his speaking skills. When Nikos was upset his command of Common vanished, and he was reduced to stammering and simple, childish words.

Once Stall was pronounced fully recovered, he and Nikos were called into a building they had never been allowed—or able—to enter before. It was guarded by a pair of enormous dragons. One was black with black eyes and the size of a large hill—he towered over the island like a small mountain—while the other was half that size, sapphire blue, and blue-eyed.

As they approached, the black leviathan snarled like thunder, shaking the air, before the blue dragon cuffed its snout. The growl stopped abruptly.

[You _know_ the rules, black! Be silent!] The blue dragon's feminine voice was angered, and the black whimpered like a chastised puppy, settling back onto its stomach. The blue spoke more gently to Nikos and Stall. [Welcome, hatchlings. I am Saphira, partner of Eragon. You may enter in safety.]

"Thank you, Ma'am," Nikos answered for both of the guests. Saphira chuckled.

Nikos and Stall carefully walked into the building—a small cottage like those found on peasant farms—under Saphira's gaze. The inside was sparsely and plainly furnished, with heavy chairs and tables that had a rough-hewn look. The only ornament was a painting of a large golden dragon missing a foreleg and an elf that stood by the dragon's side with a small smile.

A man who looked somewhere between elven and human glanced up from a scroll he was writing on. "Ah!" he said with a smile. "You came. Good; we have much to speak of."


	3. Chapter 3: Deathly Confrontations

**(A/N: This chapter begins immediately after Chapter Two. This will be an important chapter. The villain will be revealed!)**

"What do you mean? I don't even know your name, and you're saying we have a lot to talk about?" Nikos was _very_ confused.

"Ah, but there is much that needs to be said to _every_ new Rider. I am Eragon, son of Brom, Lead Rider of the New Order."

The knowledge that they were in the presence of a living legend did not impress Nikos and Stall. "So? Get on with it. You know our names, and we know yours. Next?"

Eragon scowled. "You need to learn manners before anything else, I see. Now, your first lesson—usually given in a group setting—is the words, meaning, and memorization of the Code and the Unbreakable Rules, the violation of any of which mean death for you and your partner. The Code is as follows:

_"My bond is above all. My duty is to peace, my partner, and the Order. I am among the elite, but I will be humble. I am among the powerful, but I will use my power wisely. I have no need of possessions, and will be content with none. Through passion lies danger; I will be calm. Temptation is an enemy; I will deny my wants. Power is a tool, not a game. Though others may serve me, I am the servant._"

"Freya should have explained to you the meaning of the first, third, and last lines. Tell me their meaning."

"All we worked on was the alphabet and my speech patterns." Nikos' eyes were thoughtful. Before Eragon could reply, he added, "And that sounds like nonsense. If we're as powerful as you imply, why _shouldn't_ we rule? An immortal class of rulers to improve the lives of the peasantry and weed out the corrupt and the inept seems a _good_ idea."

Stall was nodding in agreement. Eragon turned red. "You know _nothing_ about what you say! You are here to learn, not to teach, and I see that you are an even worse choice than that pickpocket from Aroughs was."

Stall roared and lunged. He fell to the floor inches from Eragon's throat, like he'd hit an invisible wall. Eragon glared at him and spoke in the same language Freya had used to bind Stall's egg. Stall was lifted into the air, followed by Nikos. They were both unable to move or speak.

"Listen and listen well, and if either of you _ever_ say even a word of what you, _Rider_, have just told me, I will have you both banished.

"You speak of the Forsworn Heresy. That is a forbidden subject, and you will not mention it. Am I understood?"

The new Rider and dragon were dropped. "Yes," Nikos said. His eyes blazed with hatred. Stall snarled.

Eragon resumed his lecture. "Now, I know you're accustomed to eating meat, but that is forbidden for Riders in training. You will be expected and required to subsist on vegetables."

As Nikos opened his mouth to retort, there was a knock. Eragon looked toward the door. "Ah! Yggdrasil! Come in."

The person who entered was unlike anyone Nikos had ever seen. He was about five feet tall, and had dark skin somewhere between gray and brown in color. A pair of small horns grew from the sides of his head, and his eyes were yellow. A black braid of hair hung to the bottom of his neck.

"I heard you shouting," the newcomer said. "Is something wrong?"

"Not yet," Eragon said. "At least, nothing I can't handle. I'm just trying to explain the Code to these two."

"Oh. Well, I spoke with Valdr as you instructed; you were right. The oldest dragons are completely different from other beings."

"Good. Explain why that is in your next report."

"Yes, Sir."

But the other Rider glared at Nikos and Stall with disgust, leavened with bitter contempt. Nikos looked back and sneered. His instincts were screaming that this "Iggy"—Nikos could not pronounce the man's full name—was a predator, a shark with legs that was the embodiment of Sĭwáng, Nïdwhal goddess of destruction.

[So be it,] Nikos told Stall. [I'm not afraid of sharks.]

Stall chuckled…and then started to cough up blood, wheezing for breath in a froth of pinkish-red foam.

Nikos gasped for breath when the pain hit, rushing to Stall's side and cradling his partner's head in his lap. Stall took one last, rattling breath, and died. **(A/N: I've been planning this since the first draft of Chapter One. Stall is ****NOT NOT NOT**** dead. :) Keep reading.)**

[Nikos! Where are you? I can't move. I can't see! It's so dark! HELP!] Stall's voice screamed. As Nikos watched, his partner's body burst into flames without heat, leaving behind a pile of ashes and a glowing black-and-scarlet gemstone half again as large as Nikos' thumb **(A/N: about an inch and a half across, or four centimeters)**. Nikos picked it up and staggered, even though he was sitting.

He could feel Stall's mind inside the gem in his hand. "What is this?" he asked, holding it up for Eragon to see. "Stall's in here; I can feel his mind."

"Stupid f*g dragon," Iggy muttered. Nikos punched him off his feet.

"Yggdrasil, Saphira has just told me that Binky is stuck in a doorway again. Please go help him."

"Yes, Sir." Iggy walked out. Eragon turned to a mirror and muttered something. Freya's image appeared.

"Yes, Eragon?" she asked.

"I need you and Baldur to speak with Nikos and Stælwierthe immediately. Stælwierthe just experienced body death."

Freya grimaced. "Very well. We'll be there as soon as we can. Baldur's is _playing_ with Anabasis right now."

Eragon chuckled. "Tell them to cut it short; this is important."

"Did _you_ ever interrupt Saphira and Fírnen?"

"No; I value my life far too much. Just be polite and explain the situation."

Freya sighed. "As you will, Lead Rider."

She disappeared. Eragon turned to Nikos.

"Keep that hidden until Freya says otherwise. Do not _ever_ let it out of your sight."

Nikos started to speak, before realizing that he didn't trust himself not to insult the man in front of him. He nodded instead and walked out at Eragon's gesture, still holding the mysterious gem.

Nikos wandered around the city for several hours with Stall's gemstone whatever-it-was in his pocket. He got something to eat and was sitting on a bench in a small park with a saltwater pool that made him think of the sea—the only reason he had stayed on land was because the whalers had convinced the Eoam constable that the boy they'd captured was too dangerous to be allowed out of sight; otherwise, Nikos would have gone straight back to the deep ocean and never been seen again. By the time the constable's deputies had let him alone, however, it was too late for that. He'd become acclimated. In fact—

A voice interrupted his daydream. "Nikos. Eragon said you needed to speak with us."

It was Freya, with Baldur nowhere in sight.

"Yes… Where is Baldur?"

"He's with me in the same way Stall's with you." Freya tapped the gemstone in her sword's pommel.

"Oh. Where can we talk? I don't want this to be public."

"And it shouldn't be public. Ever." Freya's voice was uncharacteristically stern. "Come. We'll go to my quarters; no one can hear us there."

"All right. Where's the rest of Baldur?"

"Too busy mating with his best friend to attend in flesh. Like I said, he's listening, and can still answer any questions you or Stall have."

Freya seemed amused by her partner's current activities; as if there was a private joke she had not intention of revealing. Nikos was wise and embarrassed enough to keep his curiosity under firm control. After all, curiosity made dinner of the fish, as his mother had often said. It was a Nïdwhal saying with a land-dweller equivalent. That wasn't common, and it had taken a while for Nikos to understand what a cat was.

As his thoughts returned to the present, he saw a massive cat walk across the roadway. He stopped so suddenly he almost tripped.

_The cat was almost five times as large as Baldur_. It was white, with brown eyes, and had long, silky hair someone had painstakingly trimmed at the bottom of the stomach and the ankles.

[Did we mention that it's _way_ bigger than the citadel in Eoam?] Nikos' eyes seemed to ask him. [Because it is.] **(A/N: this cat, next to a T. rex, would make the dinosaur look like a small Chihuahua next to a really tall Great Dane)**

Nikos gulped. "What's that?" he asked Freya, who seemed unconcerned.

"That's Binky, Shruikan's pet cat. I hope you don't smell like catnip. He likes to chew it!" She laughed at Nikos' horrified expression.

They reached Freya's home, a small house in the dwarven quarter, soon after Binky finished licking Nikos until he dripped cat saliva, which Freya found so hilarious she couldn't stop laughing for twenty minutes.

Nikos wasn't happy. He didn't mind being wet—after all, it wasn't so different from being rained on or being underwater—but the stares and laughter from total strangers made him angry.

He soothed his pride as Freya walked around the small house, looking for something. She found a small plate of cheese slices and a few glasses of water, setting them on the table between herself and Nikos as she sat in a padded chair.

"Right. Sit. Help yourself." It was an order, not an invitation. Nikos sat and took a slice of cheese, nibbling it and hiding his grimace. He _hated_ cheese, butter, and everything else made from milk, including milk itself, almost as much as he did vegetables.

"Now, it really isn't _my_ place to tell you this. It's a dragon's. However, Baldur is busy, and poor Stall doesn't know any more than you do. Well, not much more; he knew he _had_ an Eldunarí—the proper term for the gemlike structures that, when disgorged, preserve the souls of dragons after death—but really nothing more than that."

"Preserve the souls? I don't understand. And Stall's been silent. I can't contact him." Nikos was worried. Except for his initial outcry, Stall hadn't said _anything_ since he'd sort-of died.

Freya sighed. "It's more complicated than that, and there are some things about the process only dragons know, but—basically—a dragon's Eldunarí will, when disgorged on purpose, keep their mind alive for eternity after their body dies. Also, it's fairly common for dragons, especially younger ones who don't know everything they need to, to panic and flee into their Eldunarí when they begin to die. That's what happened to Stall."

"What about his silence?"

[He is terrified.] It was Baldur's voice. [He did not know what to expect, and now he cannot move or see or feel anything except the minds of those around him. Also, it is _completely_ dark inside. He does not know how to create a dreamscape—a world of his own that reflects his personality—yet.]

"Stall's scared of the dark." Actually, that was a major understatement. Nikos' partner was so afraid of darkness that Nikos had had to ask for flameless lanterns to light Stall's bed at all times. The artificial daylight made it very hard for Nikos to sleep, but he didn't care.

Nikos took Stall's new body, as the Rider thought of it, out of his pocket and placed it on the table. It was wrapped in a soft rag for the moment, but Nikos uncovered it. He gasped. _The gem was barely flickering_. Instead of glowing like Baldur's, Stall's Eldunarí was lit only by a tiny point of light in the center, as if Stall was barely conscious. Worse, the pitiful glow flickered constantly, like a candle in a mild breeze, not powerful enough to truly snuff it out.

[Stall? Can you hear me?] Nikos asked.

The response was a confused jumble of feelings and images, all of which added up to something along the lines of, "Please kill me."

**A/N: My first major cliffhanger! It will probably be a while before Chapter Four is ready, but hopefully not as long as it was for Chapter Three. No promises, though. It's really hard to write this story, for some reason. :(**


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